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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581708">forgiving tree</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightsmiles/pseuds/moonlightsmiles'>moonlightsmiles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: HeartGold &amp; SoulSilver | Pokemon HeartGold &amp; SoulSilver Versions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Pokemon SoulSilver Version, soulsilvershippping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:29:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightsmiles/pseuds/moonlightsmiles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Water is not the only thing that sustains nature.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kotone | Lyra/Silver</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>forgiving tree</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He remembered.</p><p>It was violent. And loud. Difficult. He cannot remember a moment in his past where what he felt could not be described by the word ‘struggling.’ Always struggling. Struggling to sleep, to eat, to wake up in the morning and breathe throughout the day. A struggling orphan boy who would never follow the way of his gangster father; and yearned for the warmth of his mother who laid rest six feet under the earth.</p><p>In a way, in a series of anger and grief formed from loneliness, he thought he had grown so strong and so big, that his roots ingrained themselves deep into the soil where the sun may never touch them. But then she came. She was the harshest summer he had ever encountered. And he found himself struggling more than ever before.</p><p>He found himself more angry, more hungry, and more lost than ever. He waited for the nights to come as he felt the darkness was his only shelter from the bright beams she shone over him. He waited for the cold, for the silence, for the world to slow down; everywhere she walked she brought the sound of light and he cowered and grimaced. Her ugly, brown pigtails and ugly, chocolate eyes, her stupid, joyful face, her gentle voice.</p><p>Her everything shook his very core up to the top of his branches, and he felt his progress stinted. He felt his trunk begin to hollow and his leaves whistled with holes. And like his father always told him, he would never bear fruit. In the moonless nights, he wondered if perhaps this was the way of life, to be selfish, unforgiving, and cruel, and then die.</p><p>Die knowing that someone else had taken his moment to bloom, to be strong, to supplant the world with a greatness that even his father could not achieve.</p><p>And then it happened.</p><p>Amidst the flowers, ponds, and caves, atop the mountain, in the silver lining of the full moon that night, she said “No one becomes strong on their own.”</p><p>After many nights of rage, the sun glowing within her radiated into his veins, his roots, and he felt himself to be taller than ever before. He thought to touch such a light must be a sin, after all his calloused hands are as rough as split wood, but her soft, bright skin invited him in. Her airy, delicate frame melted all the façades of a strong chestnut tree to reveal the small seedling he truly was.</p><p>The small seedling, starved for water and light, now grew to blossom amongst the bitterest winters.</p><p>The redheaded boy felt the same warmth once more. The same warmth of his mother breathed from the jolly girl beside him. The happy girl full of smiles who was everything that defied his way of life, the happy girl who was selfless, forgiving and kind… and alive.</p><p>He did not have to be alone anymore, there was no more violence and hatred and chaos, only her. And as long as he had her to nourish him, he would grow.</p>
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